


Gladhand

by Cluegirl



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I can do this all day, Steve Rogers does not Stay Down, Steve Whump, after action incident, team caretaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: Steve Rogers has work to get done, and staying down is not on the schedule.  The rest of the Avengers are not on board with that plan.





	Gladhand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MusicalLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/gifts).



> Musicalluna requested: "maybe like, the avengers on a mission trying to get steve to hold still for like 15 seconds so they can splint his broken something or other?" And lo, I delivered.

Some mornings, as Tony was fond of saying, it just didn’t pay to chew through the straps, and while Steve usually put a fair amount of effort into not being a pessimist on the battlefield, this day was turning out a bit like that.

Because between the Wrecking Crew hitting Midtown, an opportunistic and surprisingly well armed street gang trying to use the chaos of the fight as cover to rob a half-demolished bank, and the fairly steep irony of there just happening to be a Hydra research lab hidden behind the facade of an upscale furniture store, and so when Bulldozer got a lucky shot in on the Hulk and sent him through the floor, that let loose a whole flock of enhanced lab animals into the street. 

Canada Geese, to be exact, which all seemed to have been enhanced with some degree of electrokinetic ability – slightly less amperage than Widow’s Bite, according to Natasha, who had been the first to see one go off in person. Because apparently in Hydra’s way of thinking, Canada Geese weren’t lethal enough to begin with?

And it didn’t get better from there. Because of course, New Yorkers being proud of ignoring no less than six impossible things every day before breakfast, there was an awful lot of potential collateral damage standing around with their camera phones out as the enraged, electrified lab-geese made it out into the streets.

Still, Steve wasn’t a tactician for nothing. He kept the team on target despite the incredulous chatter filling up the comm channels, he kept a running threat-assessment in his head as one by one, the Avengers picked the Wrecking Crew out of the fight, he even managed a mid-fight debrief with NYPD on the licence numbers of the two gang vehicles that had gotten away before the streets got too torn up. He even got Thor, Clint, and Tony to cooperate on the geese problem, drive the flock off of Thunderbolt before they actually killed the guy, and round them up into a nearby fountain park without killing any of the birds, which, JARVIS had notified them just in time, were protected by law, their status as experimental subjects notwithstanding.

And it was his own personal point of pride that he managed to do it without cussing up a storm as well. Because he’d wanted to. Oh Lord, had he wanted to, from the moment Wrecker’s crowbar had glanced off the edge of shield and smashed into his elbow, Steve had wanted nothing more than to let loose with every scrap of army crude and dockside blue he’d ever heard, and then to make up a few new ones to add to the books. Because he knew the arm was broken. He’d heard the sound of his own bones giving way, before the serum and after, and he knew the shock-numb feel of it, and none of that mattered, because he knew to the core of his tactical soul that he couldn’t give his enemies the satisfaction of knowing they’d scored that hit.

So he hadn’t. Instead, he’d put on his sternest, stubbornedest “I can do this all day” face, dug deep into his gifts of endurance and ambidexterity, and had just Got. It. Done. 

And it would have worked, too, if not for the Mayor showing up with the damned news cameras for a gladhand and a photo op. And because Steve had sent Tony and Natasha down to secure the Hydra lab, and because the Hulk had joined Clint and Animal Control at the fountain court to watch the pretty geese and relax, and because the Mayor had learned last time that he really, really did not want to shake hands with the Prince of Asgard on live broadcast television, that left no one Steve could fob the handshake duty off onto. 

Not that Steve had much chance to see it coming, either. One minute he was overseeing the SHIELD team loading the Wrecking Crew into the transport vans, and keeping half an eye out on the handful of slightly singed civilians who had run afoul of the electro-geese as the medics treated their bruises, scrapes, bites, and electrolyte imbalances, and the next there was a barrage of lenses, lights, and foley microphones in his face, the Mayor’s too-chummy hand grasping his, and then the blinding, breathless, white-as-hellfire-death-and-arctic-ice pain shocked the polite right out of him.

“FUCK!”

And the world stopped. 

Well, for Steve, it all kind of went grey and uncertain beneath the sound of blood roaring in his ears, but behind that, he could hear the pin-drop silence, and he knew, he just fucking knew he was gonna be eating crow over this one for a good long time.

But before Steve could apologize, before he could even catch his breath again, the rest of the Avengers were there. Tony deftly upstaging Steve’s gaffe with a roar of repulsors and a shiny, showy three point landing that no channel would have to censor to show on the 6 o clock news, Natasha stealing Steve’s hand back from the Mayor’s lax, horrified grip as the cameras turned, leaving a scowling Thor to receive the politician’s stammering apology as she and Clint deftly bookended Steve right out of the crowd.

“Wrecker got you, didn’t he?” Clint murmured, taking the shield from Steve’s back as they led him into the Quinjet’s sheltered gloom. “Over in the alley, by the parking garage?” Steve nodded, sucking a breath through clenched teeth as he sat. He fumbled left-handed with the chinstrap of his cowl, then sighed in relief as Clint popped the snap and lifted the whole sweaty thing away.

“I thought you were favoring that arm,” Natasha grumbled, though her fingers were cool as ice, and gentle as feathers over the howling pain of the shattered bone. “Idiot. You should have said.”

“Serum’ll handle it,” Steve breathed, remembering all over again how deep, and how sickly wrong broken bones felt once the shock of injury wore off and let the actual pain get through. “I’ll be fine…”

The up-slap Natasha delivered to the back of his head then was neither gentle, nor unexpected. It did help distract him from the urge to upchuck though. “Still should have said,” She replied, dropping a kiss on his ruffled, sweaty hair. “We stock air-splints in this thing for a reason.”

Steve scowled at her then, not wanting to admit that he’d plumb forgotten they even had those in all the confusion. Something in her answering smirk told him that she’d gleaned the truth anyhow though.

“If Bruce wasn’t asleep already, I’d turn him and his disappointed face loose on you,” she said, one hand going to the comm in her ear as her smile went from mischievous to downright mean. “So I guess we’ll just have to let Tony channel his Italian Grandmother instincts on you until we can get you and your broken arm to Medical.”

Steve felt himself go pale, which was something of a feat, as things stood. “You’re a hard woman, Romanoff,” he declared as the roar of repulsors drew near, then broke apart into heavy iron steps on the quinjet’s deck. 

Her only answer was a mocking salute as she retreated into the cockpit to help Clint with pre-flight checks, leaving Steve all alone to face the look of absolute outrage, (with just a hint of glee?) the Iron Man helmet slid aside to reveal on Tony Stark’s face as he planted his gauntlets on his armored hips and demanded,

“You broke **what?** ”


End file.
